WitFit for January
by Pire
Summary: Collection of drabbles & one-shots for the Fictionista Workshop, WitFit.
1. Jan 9th Envelope

**Penname**: Pire

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction)**: Derivitive

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s)**: T

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt**: Envelope

Outside it was snowing. A a heavy shroud of snow covered the green grass, effectively smothering it in winter's grasp. Bella sighed into the back of the couch; she was turned backward in her seat, her eyes the only thing visible above the back of the couch. She stared out of the big open window facing the backyard and wished she wasn't alone in the house.

Her thoughts were a slow trickle of worry and hope. _What if he never came home?_ and _He's going to be alright. _No matter her outcome, either anxiety or encouragement, it always led to wet pricks in her eyes. She hated the crying. Especially crying for something she couldn't change. Furiously wiping her tears away, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the blue glow from the morning frost illuminating her face.

Edward had been drafted to the war -- a war she wished never happened -- exactly a year and a half ago, the week after Christmas. On the day he left, she remembered the way he held her face, tipping her chin up so she would meet his eyes, and kissing her so softly she almost imagined it. He must have said I love you, but all she saw was the calming green held in his eyes. His eyes. They were of the average green color any other green-eyed person would have, but his twinkled for her. They lit up when he laughed, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and they darkened with lust whenever she would loop her fingers through his belt loops and pull him close. He left with promises of a life together after he came back.

Bella reclined in on the couch, and pulled the throw over herself. In her fading memory of his touch, she managed to recall the way he held her. Nimble fingers splayed over her waist while he bent down to tickle her with light kisses. Bella smiled despite herself under her covers and pulled them closer.

A muffled rustling then a _plunk_ came from outside the front door and Bella reluctantly unfolded herself from her seat to get the mail. She was reminded of yet another day had passed with no word from Edward. It had been one month since the last letter; the first day of which was panic and the accompanying days of numbness. Everyday she had hope for Edward's words on paper.

She twirled the throw around her shoulders when she got up, not bothering to smooth her hair, and when her bare feet touched the wood floor, she rose up on tip-toes to avoid the cold and padded to the door carefully, making sure not to slip on the slick wood. A gush of piercing cold swirling around her legs when she opened the door -- her thin pajama pants were no match for a Forks winter -- and she reached for the mail to the side of the door.

She quickly pulled the mail out of the mailbox, stepped back inside and closed the door on the cold, then flipped through the mail while on her way to the kitchen island.

_Bills._

_Netflix...to watch with no one._

_Square envelope...probably another wedding invitation._

_Bank statements...should really get those online._

She dropped the bunch of mail into the "mail basket" on the counter and plopped herself on the stool. _God, Bella, get a hold of yourself. With this attitude nothing good will come._ Breathing deep and rubbing her temples at the non-existent headache, she glanced down at the stack of mail.

_Bella, _the square envelope said on the flip side she hadn't cared to look at. She picked it up and examined it: there was no return address nor address-to-be- mailed. Someone had left it in her mailbox. She glanced back at the door, then back at the letter. If anyone were watching her at this very moment, one would have thought her ravenous for paper, for she tore into that piece of stationary as though it held life itself and threw the envelope to the ground. In the back of her mind she noticed the envelope was strangely heavy and it hit the ground with a subtle thud. Unfolding the thin piece of paper held inside, she read the words Sharpied onto the back of..._a receipt?_

Her heart stopped and she thought herself dead as she read. The receipt fluttered to the ground and she dashed for the door, forgetting the slickness of the wood floor and tumbled onto her hands and knees as she careened toward the door. Not even righting herself, she reached for the knob and flung the door as wide as it would go.

Air finally gushed into her lungs as she laughed out loud at the relief of seeing her Edward standing there, pack on his shoulder and cap in hand. The snow billowed around him and his resembled an angel bursting down from heaven.

She couldn't move and when he smiled at her with that one and only smile, she broke. She felt herself being lifted and when her feet reconnected with the ground, she bounced up and wrapped both legs around him.

"My Bella," he repeated over and over into her hair. He laced his hand through her hair and held her close.

"Edward, Edward...Oh God, I've missed you," her voice a whisper and filled with tears.

He carried her inside and closed the door with his foot. Lowering himself to the ground with Bella in his arms, he then spotted the mangled envelope. He reached for it and pulled away for a moment to look into Bella's eyes. She was so transfixed by his gaze, she didn't notice his hands were elsewhere.

He kissed her once on her lids, the space between her cheek on her eye, then lastly on her lips. She returned his kiss and wrapped her arms around him, tears still glistening in her eyes when she pulled back just as he whispered, "I love you, my Bella."

Edward until he pulled up a simple diamond solitaire into her view and said the two words she was aching to hear.

"I'm home."


	2. Jan 11th Bar

**Penname**: Pire

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction)**: Derivitive

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s)**: T

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt**: Scenario -- Imagine you are working as a bartender on a Friday night. A drunk woman is pouring her heart out to you just as a brawl breaks out. A beer bottle shatters on the floor and a woman screams. What happens next?

* * *

The bar was full, but not crowded. There were a couple groups of people throwing darts while others played pool. Some were simply content sitting at their booths, laughing with friends. The patrons sitting at the bar weren't rowdy or loud, which was the norm, and that's why I liked it here. I knew almost everyone and everyone knew me.

I looked to the far corner and saw my friends, Edward, Emmett, Rose, and Bella. Bella looked my way, as though sensing someone watching her and smiled at me. I smiled back and watched as she turned around, her hair bouncing, exposed shoulders glowing under the lights. I wanted to be over there with them. With her.

We had been together, at the suggestion of Edward, "The Gay One", for about four months and it was…bliss. There was no one like Bella. We had been friends for years prior and it had only been a matter of time, I guess. She was my soul-mate, and I loved her.

"Down to my last pack of cigarettes," a tiny, but attractive woman said as she floated onto the bar-stool in front of me, interrupting my thoughts. She tapped the bottom of her new pack and pulled a cigarette out daintily with her thumb and first finger, and then she met my eyes. Grey like a storming ocean current or stone, like rock, sucked dry of its moisture in the desert. I could almost see a shimmering mirage. It was definitely the latter: stone; with a mirage.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she settled the cigarette between her lips.

Coming back to myself, or some semblance of myself, I cleared my throat. "Let me get that for you." Might as well be a gentleman.

I pulled the lighter out of my back pocket (kept in case of this very situation); she leaned forward, her short hair falling over one eye, and puffed when the flame touched the end, then sat back as I tucked the lighter back.

"I'm Jazz. What can I get for you?" I said, sticking to the script. Somehow, even over just the several seconds I'd been in this woman's presence, it made me nervous.

"I'm Alice; vodka tonic. Top-shelf…pick whichever one you want." She smirked at me before I turned to fill her order, smoke surrounding her petite frame in tendrils of spiraling seduction.

I placed a napkin on the table, and then salted it before placing her drink on top of it.

"Thanks," she said with a sultry whisper; she exhaled her smoke slowly before raising the glass to her lips.

Why was she trying so hard? I tried to lift my thoughts away from this woman that had somehow claimed them, but there was a magnetic, no, _hypnotic_, pull coming from her. It was her eyes. And her lips. And her hair; so soft and short. It was dark and fringed slightly on the ends in the front and kind of looked swept back as though she just walked into the blow of a fan.

Everything around seemed to fade. It was like a fog that had grown so thick only she was visible. This…_Alice_ and her smoky tendrils. Her name was like a hiss on his tongue, but it somehow wanted to be a whispered thing that hummed in my ear.

_Alice._

I refocused my eyes as they had become unfocused in my thoughts and saw her again. She puffed another cloud toward me, her lips opened in a pouty "o", her wrist hanging daintily limp with the cigarette in her hand.

"Jasper."

My hand went to my head, an ache was there when Alice said my name, and I thought of Bella for an instant. I felt the need to get to her, to leave and never come back.

The fog lifted with a crashing _whoosh_. It felt like flashing-back in _LOST._ I was back in the bar, and a fight had broken out. Five or six men were grappling for position and screaming at each other. For what, I did not know for I had been in the foggy depths of a mirage.

Glass shattered, a scream sounded.

I looked up with sluggish eyes and saw Rose screaming, bent over Bella. She was bleeding. Her head and her stomach. Before I knew what I was doing, I catapulted over the bar, only to fall on my face.

My palms sliced on broken glass and in the reflection of spilled blood I saw a black-haired, stony-eyed pixie smiling. I whipped my head up and Bella was lying still on the floor. Edward, Emmett and Rose were bent over her, covering her wounds with their hands.

I had never told Alice my name. She knew it.

"Bella!" I called out. I scrambled up and ran to her, holding her head in the crook of my arm. She rasped my name and a terrible gurgling sound followed. My free hand hovered over her stomach and I looked at the damage. I huge piece of glass stuck grotesquely out of her ribs and blood was everywhere. My throat went dry and a strange wetness prickled at my eyes. "Bella." I whispered again, placing my forehead against hers. I pulled back to wipe the blood from her head that had been smeared there and watched as the light left her eyes.

In the din of Rose's screaming and Emmett and Edward's silence, all I heard were six words – hissed with toxic venom.

"I've been waiting for you, Jasper."


	3. Jan 12th Rain, Reign, Rein

The rain whipped through her hair as she prodded the horse to run faster with her heels.

"C'mon!" she whispered fiercely.

The storm was coming down hard and wet snow was beginning to join in, making her sight worse. Piercing barks broke through, sounding like thunder, and they echoed through the trees.

The rider, Isabella Masen, rode for her husband, Edward. He had been injured several miles back and she had to leave him or else their purpose would be forgotten. The reigning ruler, Aro the Amiable, was truly not his title. Edward's profession was anthropology – the only one in the kingdom. He had uncovered a terrible truth about Aro. He found out, through his science, that the amiable king had been killing his own subjects out of pure enjoyment. Edward had been seething with anger at his discovery. Their beloved King was a traitor and a murderer.

Edward had it in his mind to destroy Aro and expose him for what he was. Isabella insisted on coming through heated arguments and logic, for she was a skilled archer.

Edward had been struck by an arrow when they were nearly there. The castle's peaks glowed on the horizon; Isabella could nearly taste his filthy blood. The arrow had been sprung by an old trap – probably from years ago during the reign of the last king, at least fifteen years prior.

"You must finish it, Bella," he had said as his voice croaked. He lied against a tree trunk, droplets pelted him from above, and he lifted his good arm to Isabella's face, caressing her cheek. "I know what you can do with that," referring to her bow.

Bella had gazed at him, torn between the hunt and her love for her husband. "I need you," she whispered as she grasped his hand that was holding her cheek.

"Must we have the same argument here as we did at home, love?" He tried a smirk, but the pain made it appear as a grimace. "It will be the same except now I am looking for reasons for you to go. You're a better shot than I, anyway."

"This is true," she said, trying to keep his humor. She wanted so badly for him to be near, to protect her. Yes, it was true, she was the better shot, but with him by her side, it would give her all the more confidence.

She left him with his cloak, food, and water, and then lifted herself onto her horse. Isabella turned the horse toward the castle and looked back to her beloved. Her eyes spoke the words that her trembling lips wanted to say.

Resolved and determined, Isabella rode in the night, cracking the reins, bow and quiver close, cloak flapping in the wind, to the man to had caused her kingdom so much pain.

He would not see the light of next morning.


	4. Jan 13th Pajamas

**Penname**: Pire

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction)**: Derivitive

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s)**: T

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt**: Word Prompt - Pajamas

* * *

"Hey babe! I'm home!" I called, our dark, bare house carrying my voice with an echo.

I dropped my keys into the glass apple by the the door and thew my jacket over the back of the couch before flicking the switch that turned on the lights.

Pursing my brow for a moment when I didn't hear Bella call back, I rounded the corner of the apartment and walked to the bedroom. There was a slant of light coming from under the closed door.

I turned the knob and entered, the door gently hitting the wall, 'causing the door's spring stopper to spring with a loud twang.

That exact reaction happened to my dick when I saw the sight before me.

Bella. Pajamas. 1-Up mushrooms.

_Oh God. Even in flannel she's irresistible._

She slowly turned around and smiled mischievously. Her gaze then locked on the bulge in my pants and her lips moved sensuously as she spoke.

"I've one-upped you, Edward."


End file.
